


I feel it in my bones

by Ljparis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Captain America: The First Avenger, Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, F/M, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-23 17:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/pseuds/Ljparis
Summary: He said her name, quietly so as not to startle her, letting the word slip past his tongue as his hand came up to cup her elbow.





	I feel it in my bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Speranza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speranza/gifts).



Peggy tells herself that it doesn't matter what he looks like. 

She liked Steve Rogers, his self-deprecating humor, his drive and determination, his ingenuity, before anything changed about his body. She liked his confidence, the fact that he refused to back down from a bully, from someone bigger than him. And God, she loved watching him get that flag off the flag pole then climb into the jeep with an exhausted nod that wanted to be a smirk with her. She knew that she could have grown to love him just as he was, skinny and boney, shorter than her, all tired blue eyes and a desire to be more than God had given him.

The problem now is that all she can see when she looks at him - _has to look up at him now_ \- is his chiseled jaw, the soft wave of his hair against the side of his head, his strong shoulders, the way his chest strained against his uniform shirt - 

She hates that while she knows who he is inside, she can't take her eyes off who he's become on the outside. It makes her feel superficial, hesitant to talk to him about whatever this was that she felt for him, worried that he'd think that it was new and fresh and only because every time she looks at him she wants to touch his chest and step into his heat.

Not that there was anything wrong with wanting that, but how could she possibly convince him that she was pretty sure - no, she was definitely sure - she wanted that _before_ , too.

 

Steve found Peggy outside of the communications tent, bundled up from head to toe to keep out the frigid cold. She had a lit cigarette between her gloved fingers, at her chin, but she wasn't smoking it. She was staring out at the stark landscape, where the graying winter sun was setting behind the trees. She didn't seem to notice him step up beside her.

He said her name, quietly so as not to startle her, letting the word slip past his tongue as his hand came up to cup her elbow.

She flinched, barely, but enough that he noticed it, and turned toward him. A smile whispered at the corners of her mouth, hesitant before it grew. He felt it in his chest, the way she looked at him sometimes. "Captain Rogers," she said, voice low and warm. "What can I do for you?" She flicked her fingernail against the side of the cigarette, ash snowing down.

"I didn't know you smoked," he said, his tongue taking up too much of his mouth, feeling stupid before the sentence was even out of his mouth.

Her lips pulled into a tight line, just for a moment, before she shook her head. "I don't," she said, "not anymore, at least. Just - like the feel of it in my hand, the smell engulfing me for a few minutes."

Steve looked at her, not sure how to respond to that. He'd never smoked a cigarette before in his life, not after spending years hearing the hacking, debilitating cough of his grandmother before she passed. Peggy broke their eye contact, then dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out with her toe against the butt. "Are you okay, Peggy?" 

A puff of iced breath in the cold air, a lift of her shoulders. "Just tired of this," she said after a moment. "The war, dragging on, feeling it in my bones, living it every moment."

His fingers moved against her arm, gripped it tighter, as he stepped closer to her. "It'll end," he said, not giving it a timeframe, not even speculating that it could be tomorrow, in a week, six months from now, five years. "Eventually," Steve continued, "the war will be over. Then where will we be?"

Peggy's eyes met his, held their contact like that for a long moment. He could feel heat radiating off of them both, even in this frigid air. She dragged her gaze away from him, stepped out of reach. "Hopefully in a warmer place than this," she said, the words a joke that fell flat.

She tipped her face up to his. "Hopefully with you," she whispered.

Before he could find the words to respond, before he could reach out for her again, before he could really even comprehend what she had said, she was gone. Slipped past him, the side of the tent flapping as she ducked inside, leaving him outside alone in the cold.


End file.
